


Baking

by rocket_diving



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demon Pan, M/M, Neverland Husbands, Panlix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocket_diving/pseuds/rocket_diving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Felix burns his TV dinner and accidentally summons a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sporklift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporklift/gifts).



Felix's expression remained a practiced neutral as he regarded the creature sitting in the charred remains of his kitchen window. If he was affected at all by the red glow of the demon’s eyes or the twin horns curling out from his ash-brown hair, it didn't show.

Mostly.

The bat Felix held tapped an uneasy rhythm against his calf, his tall frame tensed into sharp angles before he wordlessly dashed the shrieking fire alarm from the wall. The yellowed, plastic cover rolled out of sight and the batteries clattered noisily against the floor.

"Aggressive. I like that."

The demon’s voice was mocking and youthful, an appropriate match to his boyish appearance – Felix had half expected a rusty, preternatural growl. Only the predatory curl of the demon’s pale lips betrayed his true nature and that seemed intentional.

"You should probably take care of the oven as well, Felix. That smoke is bound to attract the wrong sort of attention."

Felix hesitated long enough to level a pointed stare at the smoldering vestige of the windowsill (which caused the demon to grin all the wider) before he did as instructed. The air was foul from the chemical scent of melted plastic, courtesy of the over-baked TV dinner… and, of course, smoke from the ember-lined hole in his wall.

"Good boy." Enormous, feathered wings twitched and folded more comfortably against the demon’s back in a self-satisfied sort of way; a few tufts of black down drifted lazily to settle against the stained and peeling linoleum floor.

“Shall I introduce myself? You can call me Pan. Your kind seem to prefer that name..." The demon tilted his head, his gaze narrowing in thought as he slowly shook a clawed finger at Felix. "But you... You don't like that – you think I look like a Peter."

A resounding silence settled between them as Felix’s deadpan stare remained unwavering.

Pan exhaled with a derisive noise and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Look, if you’re bloody shy or something, you’re going to have to get over it. This isn’t going to work if—“

"Why are you here?" Felix countered flatly. Sweat trickled down his brow and lean, bare arms, gathered uncomfortably in the small of his back under his thin tank-top. His tiny apartment was a sauna in the summer and he was pretty sure the temperature had gone up ten degrees since the arrival of this uninvited guest. “What do you want?”

The demon's brows ticked upward, either at the interruption or tone in which he'd been addressed. The sneer that curled his mouth was a mixture of amusement and disappointment, as though Felix had said something particularly boorish. “You’ve got it all wrong, chum. _You_ summoned _me_. What do _you_ want?”

Confusion rippled across Felix’s scarred visage. “I didn’t—“

“Well, it _is_ the witching hour and there’s the small matter of a Blood Moon.” Pan gestured vaguely toward the oven with a slim, strong hand, “And let’s not forget your pescatarian offering…”

“Burnt fish-sticks,” Felix corrected slowly.

Pan tossed his head, indulging in another eye-roll. “Clearly semantics, Felix,” His arms spread wide and his teeth flashed in a feral grin, “Because here I am.”

Felix’s features twisted as he bit back a response; further debate was unlikely to get them anywhere. Frustration pressed his lips into a thin line and he swiped a palm against his brow, momentarily tangling his fingers in his unkempt, damp hair.

Pan tracked his every move with more than passing interest, though the demon’s grin never faltered. Crimson eyes flickered, dropping to Felix’s throat when he swallowed, transfixed by the shift of sweat slicked skin. Felix’s heart beat a hollow warning that echoed in his chest.

“I’m making you nervous.” Felix nearly gave a start when Pan spoke again, his voice softer but still threaded with a note of disdainful laughter.

“ _Humans_ ,” Pan sighed, folding his arms against his thin chest and closing his eyes.

Suddenly, the demon’s arching horns crumbled as though they were made of sand – no hint of their former presence remained in the waves of his wind-blown hair. The sleek, black feathers of his wings fell as gently as ash around him, while his patchwork trousers and tunic peeled apart and scattered like autumn leaves. The proof of Pan’s true nature dissipated in wisps of shadow-smoke before ever touching the ground.

Felix’s narrow eyes widened and he inhaled sharply through his nose. The warning beat had transformed into the frantic rhythm of a war-drum. Pan was just a boy now, with smooth cheeks and a pink mouth, lean figured with a tapered waist and wider shoulders – a pale skinned adolescent who was still painfully out of place in Felix’s dingy, poorly lit kitchen.

He was also completely naked and smirking.

“How’s this?” Pan opened his eyes, brilliant green and not-quite-human. His right brow arched and he tilted his chin up in challenge. “Better?”

Felix’s sight locked on the space just above Pan’s shoulder as the latter gingerly rose from his perch, bare feet padding softly against the floor. The demon shifted his weight experimentally, adjusting to a new center of gravity without the weight of his wings, and the embers lining the jagged hole in the wall gave a final, lazy flare before dying out. The light of a street lamp sputtered and the city din seemed to spill into Felix’s apartment all at once.

“No, it’s not,” Felix finally ground out, his voice low and foreign to his own ears. He was a head taller than the demon, his long limbs rigid as his grip tightened around the baseball bat still in hand. “I don’t know what you want, but you’ll have to find it elsewhere. You need to leave.”

“Or what, you’ll make me?” Pan drawled sarcastically, craning his neck over a shoulder to inspect his back, paying no mind to Felix’s posturing. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”

Felix scowled at Pan’s dismissive attitude, and the bat jerked upward in an unspoken threat as his arms tensed. “ **Leave**. I don’t want anything—“

Pan was on him in an instant, his human facade abandoned and displeasure palpable. The hands circling Felix’s wrist and throat were iron vices, and the bat tumbled from his grasp as he was forced to his knees. Black wings unfurled behind the demon, beautiful and menacing and swallowing up the meager light, and his fiery eyes burned into the back of Felix’s skull. “ _ **You** _ summoned _**me**_ , laddie. It wouldn’t have worked if _you_ didn’t want _something_. That means our game’s just begun. So, why don’t you focus on what _really_ matters?”

The crushing pressure around his throat let up just as Felix teetered on the verge of unconsciousness. With a soft groan, he struggled back to reality, his senses reeling. Distantly, he felt the pad of a thumb tracing the line of his scar, down his cheek and curling under the sharp turn of his jaw. When he opened his eyes, Pan appeared human once more and his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from his own.

The demon’s words shaped themselves against Felix’s parted lips like braille under fingertips. “ _What do you want_?”

Felix shuddered and turned away. “Nothing,” he replied stubbornly, his voice hoarse and not nearly as convincing as he would have hoped.

Pan’s harsh laughter cut like a razor as he shoved Felix down and straightened gracefully. “Well, until you figure it out, you’ve got yourself a new flatmate.”

Felix twisted to his knees and stumbled to his feet as Pan sauntered out of the kitchen, and he rubbed at his neck with a shaking hand.

What else could he do, but follow?


End file.
